


fly on feathers of ambition

by exile_wrath



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:27:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exile_wrath/pseuds/exile_wrath
Summary: When Lilia Baranovskaya and Yakov Feltsman retire, the New York Ballet Company is left short a principal and a director. Award-winning director Victor Nikiforov steps in to fill his old mentor’s position and to try to reawaken his love of ballet.Meanwhile, danseur Yuuri Katsuki is chasing the shadows of his own mentor through the halls of the theatre, some shadows more solid than most.





	fly on feathers of ambition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya/gifts).



> I'm so sorry @kaz that this wasn't done in time for the deadline lol. anyway guys this is like. my second au which yuuri is a dancer. hopefully it's a little different from the one I have already, enjoooooy.

 

Change is coming to the New York Ballet Company, stealing over the theatre like winter stole over the city, robbing the day of it’s light hours and replacing it with snowfall and cold nights that make Yuuri’s breath puff visibly in front of him as he breathes. He can feel it in his bones as he reads the poster advertising the performance tonight. _Lilia Baranovskaya’s last performance!_ It cries in bold red letters, slanted to the right above the image of Lilia’s face in full makeup for _La Bayadere_. It’s not her last appearance as just bayadère Nikiya, but her last appearance onstage in professional capacity.

At the venerable age of sixty, Lilia, one of the many monoliths of Yuuri’s life, is slipping away. She is retiring despite still being in top form, as perfectly capable of the rigors that ballet demands as any new face declared to be a genius, skill tempered by decades of experience that very few can boast. Lilia is bowing out now, in full control of herself, leaving of her own will and not because gravity or injury have felled her and ended her career prematurely. No, she leaves after a lifetime dedicated to ballet, unscathed from major injury, and on her own terms. It is a grand exit that many dream of but few succeed to to.

It is this respect that Yuuri wants to be like Lilia instead of Minako. He stares at the poster longingly, wishing that he isn’t to be a background dancer in this performance, but rather that he could be in the center of the audience seats to bear witness to her last dance.

It is also Director Yakov’s last work as well. The change that is happening to the ballet company is more rapid than winter, and the results more unpredictable. Yuuri has heard from the man himself that he intends to install someone he’s familiar with as the new Director someone experienced, someone that he trusts — but there has been no mention of his identity. There have been a multitude of guessing rumours, of course, of the passionate and nearly-controversial Georgi Popovich coming to New York on Yakov’s invitation to escape the scandal he’d caused with a member of the Mariinsky. There are even whispers of the likeliness of renowned and provocative Victor Nikiforov leaving Russia for the sake of his old mentor, but Yakov has remained tight-lipped, and not even his assistants are willing to divulge any details.

Discussion of the next prima is not uttered in the hallowed halls of the theatre. The idea that Lilia is leaving is one that’s hard for many to bear, as she has been a key player in all their lives for the longest time. She is not just a performer, but a teacher. Many shoulders and arms have been manipulated by her in order to correct them, many claps had been heard as she barked at someone’s wrong presentation. A guiding force and a goal all in one; despite her strict hand, she is someone that all members of the company admire, and the idea that anyone at all could fill her shoes is almost laughable.

Lilia is leaving and Yakov is leaving. And no one knows whether whoever comes next will be able to carry the mantle of their predecessors.

Yuuri knows it is a heavy weight.

“Yuuri!” someone bounces in front of him. Yuuri blinks, and he is no longer contemplating in front of Lilia’s poster, but rather deep inside the building, stretching his muscles on pale polished hardwood. Kenjirou hops in front of him again, red bang clipped back, and Yuuri looks up at the boy. “Good morning, Yuuri!” Kenjirou says. His smile is bright despite his impending job loss — Yuuri knows that Kenjirou won’t be staying long after Yakov leaves. Just long enough to help Yakov’s successor settle in, and then off to the Tokyo Ballet Company to fill the entry position he’d worked so hard to gain.

“Good morning, Kenjirou,” Yuuri replies. It’s impossible for anyone to stay silent in front of Kenjirou’s endless cheer and goodwill.

Satisfied with this greeting, Kenjirou beams again before zipping off to greet other dancers doing their stretches, or just coming into the room. He’s the type to want to commit every person he can to memory, to carry in his mind when he leaves since he can’t possibly carry them in his pocket. That kind of enthusiasm is something Yuuri can admire, even if it’s extremely awkward when it’s all focused on him.

(“Aren’t you Minako Okukawa’s protege?” Kenjirou gasps, eyes shining. “I’ve heard so much-!”)

“I don’t think there’s a single soul that won’t miss them,” Chris, voice coming somewhere from behind Yuuri. Yuuri tilts his ear towards him, switching legs for his stretches.

“Whoever comes next will have to deal with being compared to them,” Otabek replies, voice calm as always. “They’re big shoes to fill, as Americans like to say.”

“I wonder who will possibly be able to follow after _Madame Baranovskaya_ of all people,” Chris says. “And if they’ll be able to live up to people’s expectations after her. The socialite patrons will be judging. I almost feel sorry for them.”

Yuuri can relate. Whoever ends up being the lead for the next performance will have many eyes on them. Eyes coveting the prima position, eyes judging them for adequacy, eyes searching for flaws. They’re someone to be pitied, almost, but he knows, and Chris and Otabek know, that they are all dancers, and they are all beautiful.

“You must be beautiful!” every person is familiar with the words cracking whip-sharp from Lilia’s lips. “Beauty is strength- your elegance and your control must make you strong! Strong enough to dance, for it is only those whose beauty is in their strength and their strength is from their beauty that can shine.”

They are all beautiful, and strong, and every ballerina and danseur in this troupe are strong enough to dance in front of all those damning eyes.

Yuuri knows about filling shoes. He hopes, for their sake, that whoever is the center of the next production is someone capable of filling Lilia’s.

* * *

 

 _La Bayadere_ ends to applause, to patrons displaying their appreciation for Lilia and her legacy and mourning her decision to retire. Yuuri is exhausted, as he always is after a performance a(background characters must practice just as much as main characters after all, if they ever wish to be more than a plot device or part of the scenery) but his muscles are still thrumming with energy. It was a perfect performance, everyone inhabiting their roles and timing as precise as clockwork. There were a few mishaps here and there like costume issues, but nothing that wasn’t unsalvageable.

It is a performance befitting the end of Lilia Baranovskaya’s career, and Yuuri couldn’t wish her anything better than this. As he makes his way backstage, there is a sea of bodies clothed in pale brown that surrounds Lilia, men and women mourning that they will not see her again after this. Yuuri cuts arounds the crowd, pausing briefly in the dressing room to strip out of his costume and lay it carefully for it to be collected later, wipe makeup off his face with equal care, and prop his glasses on with the rest of his normal clothes.

“I hear they’re going back to Russia!” someone says as others walk into the changing room. “To St. Petersburg and Russia, going through the places of their youth.”

“Didn’t they not have a vacation after they got married? I heard that the wedding happened and the next day Lilia was dancing the lead role of The Nutcracker. They’re so dedicated,” another person says.

Yuuri thinks the same as he slips away. But now the dedication is over, and they are leaving the troupe to relive their youth and to live a life outside of ballet. It’s something almost unfathomable to many of the dancers back in the dressing room.

His path through the building is a determined one, heading for one of the smaller dance rooms. Yuuri passes by the room specially designated for Lilia and does a double-take at the open door.

There’s a woman sitting on Lilia’s chair, facing the mirror. Long brown hair, and if she turns around — if there’s a mole under her left eye-

Yuuri blinks, and his hand is on the door, pushing it open more. But there’s no one there.

 _Maybe I should just find somewhere close_ , Yuuri decides, retreating as if the door handle had been white-hot. So he turns the corner and sets his bag down on the floor, dropping his own body down to cool down.

The arches of his feet are pressed together and his back is arched to that his forehead is touching his toes when footsteps click down the hallway. “Yuuri Katsuki,” Lilia says. He jerks to attention, registering her still in her costume, the flowers in her arms, the appearance of a deity finally descending to rest. “Your discipline, as always, is admirable. Minako did well with you.”

It takes a moment for Yuuri to gather himself. Of all things to hear, that is not what he’d expected. “She would be glad to hear that,” he demurs.

“I’ve watched all those that dance here,” Lilia begins, shifting her weight to tuck the bouquet gently under her arm, “It took me a while to see at first what Minako saw in you, but your time here has allowed you to become truly beautiful.” _Strong_ is the implication that she knows Yuuri knows. “I expect great things of you, Yuuri Katsuki. Minako’s protege.”

She turns to go to her dressing room, but Yuuri manages to find his words before she disappeared. “Thank you, Madame Baranovskaya.” It had taken months to stop calling her Lilia-sensei. “Minako-sensei would have loved to be here for your last performance.”

Lilia nods and walks away.

* * *

 

There’s a Wikipedia page for Yuuri Katsuki despite the fact that he’s only 23 and hasn’t been center stage for any roles ever since he graduated Juilliard. The Wikipedia page probably exists because whoever decided to make Minako-sensei’s page just wanted make her rumoured pupil’s name link to something.

The facts go like this: Minako Okukawa was renowned as the first and only Japanese person thus far to become the principal dancer of the American Ballet Troupe, making waves in the world of dance. Her performances awed critics, her talents awed everyone — to the point that in 1994, she was awarded with the Benois de la Danse.

That year, her best friend Hiroko gave birth to a son.

Minako’s career would give her time working with the Mariinsky and the Bolshoi and the Tokyo Ballet as a guest, and she shined in every performance. And then, in 2000, she retreated abruptly from the world, going back to Hasetsu for vacation and never returning, sending a resignation letter to her troupe and falling off the grid. Back then, it was easy to hide from the world, especially in the backwaters of Kyushu.

That period of her life is skipped on the Wikipedia page, as Yuuri and his family have said nothing to people that want to dig into her private life. In 2010, she reappeared in the world of dance in the background of a video posted to Youtube, as Yuuko Toyomura had recorded one of her best friend’s dance practices. By chance, someone that saw the video recognized the woman in the background, and thus Yuuri was ousted into the spotlight.

Minako refused to talk about why she had chosen to retire, never confirming nor denying any rumours. Instead, she’d gush about her protege to the reporters that chased her, about how talented he was and how he’d showed devotion to dance ever since he was six and followed his sister Mari to ballet practice. (Mari had quit shortly after, but Yuuri had fallen in love with the idea of being graceful and beautiful like Minako-sensei someday.) From then, his life accelerated from dancing everyday under Minako’s appraising eye to auditioning for Juilliard all the way in America, to _getting in_ , and now he was here. Danseur for the New York Ballet Company, not in any notable position.

Of course, being part of the New York Ballet Company in itself _is_ a notable position, but that doesn’t really register when he is _Minako Okukawa’s protege_ , when people hear his name and immediately think of hers.

Yuuri knows fully well that he would not be where he is today if not for Minako. However, it grates on his gratefulness sometimes, that people will always look at him and see _Minako’s protege_.

The second sentence of his Wikipedia page reads, “Trained since the age of six by renowned dancer Minako Okukawa...”

By all rights, it is something to be proud of. But instead it weighs on Yuuri’s shoulders like Minako’s accident does.

He does not envy whoever it is that will become the next principal dancer after Lilia. He knows a thing or two about having to fill in a mentor’s shoes.

* * *

 “Guess who was spotted at JFK Airport today!” is how Yuuri is woken up a few days later. Phichit flings the door to Yuuri’s room open, waving his phone excitedly. “Yuuri!”

Yuuri rolls to face the wall and pulls his blankets over his head. “Too early.”

“Yuuri!” Phichit exclaims. “It’s not too early for this! Besides, you’ll never forgive me if you end up learning it later instead of ASAP!”

Yuuri slits his eyes open and pulls his blanket down marginally. “What is it?”

“Victor Nikiforov is in New York!” Yuuri hears the sound of furious tapping, and then Phichit’s screen is shoved in his face. “It’s all over twitter right now! People snuck pictures of him disembarking, and he was apparently hailing a cab to Manhattan!”

Yakov and Lilia live in Manhattan.

“I thought we were going to get Georgi Popovich!” flies out of Yuuri’s mouth instead. Forsaking all hopes of another fifteen minutes of sleep, he sits up in his bed and fumbles for his glasses and his own phone. There’s an email notification that he presses desperately the moment it’s open, and he gapes at the contents.

IMPORTANT MEETING yells the subject line. Underneath there’s a time and a demand for everyone to assemble in the largest practice room by three. It had undoubtedly been sent by Yakov himself, instead of one of his assistants.

Phichit peeks over his shoulder. “I wonder if I’ll be able to convince my boss to let me cover Nikiforov’s arrival,” he says. “It might be an overlap with the Sports section though... hm...”

It takes a long minute for Yuuri to boot up again. “Victor Nikiforov is replacing Director Feltsman,” he croaks. “We’re going to meet _Victor Nikiforov_. I’m going to get to work with him-!” he turns to Phichit. “I-”

His friend rests his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “It’s seven, Yuuri, you have plenty of time to prepare to make one hell of a first impression on your favorite person in the ballet world.”

“I’ll settle for not making a _horrible_ first impression,” Yuuri replies.

As life would have it, he jinxes himself.

Yuuri lets himself into the back door of the theatre, wrestling with the old door. On some days it can be picky about which way you have to lean your weight in order for it to shove in. He’s about to let it swing closed when a panicked yell sounds from the street. “Hold the door!” Yuuri obligingly swings it open instead of slamming it in their face by accident.

“Thank you so much.” It takes a moment for Yuuri to process the three people that are suddenly crammed in the tiny entry hallway. Victor Nikiforov smiles at him gratefully, and a young red-haired woman looks down the hallway. A blond-haired youth gives the door a nasty glare. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Yakov’s office is, would you?”

“Down the hall, go right, left, left, up the stairs to the second floor, and his office is the metal one with dents.” Yuuri blurts, having told Phichit many times the same directions whenever he came to get permission from Yakov to take rehearsal photos. “The dents are really big, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you again!”  Victor beams. “Do you think that you could guide us, though? I, ah, I’m afraid none of us are very good with directions unless it’s from a GPS.”

Yuuri wants to smack himself. “Of course! Uh, this way-” he starts off down the hallway, but Lilia’s imposing figure appears.

She nods to Yuuri in greeting before fixing her gaze on the newcomers. “Vitya, you’re late,” she scolds. Her face softens imperceptibly when it lands on the other two. “Milla, Yura, you look well.”

There is affection there, and Yuuri does not want to intrude on their reunion. He slips away, missing the calculative look that Milla and Victor give him.

* * *

 “Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri blurts, bursting into the practice room. “Victor Nikiforov is Yakov’s replacement, and there’s two other people with him.”

Chris and Otabek pause in their conversation, the few ballerinas in the room leap to their feet. “Seriously?” Sara asks, searching his expression. “Who’s with him?”

Yuuri drops his bag down and starts changing down to his practice clothes. “Madame Baranovskaya called a woman with red hair Milla and a kid with blond hair Yura.”

Sara audibly gasps, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “You mean _Milla Babicheva!_ ” The full name gave Yuuri pause now, recalling the talk that had filtered its way through the ballet world. “Lilia’s old student!”

“Trained with Madame Baranovskaya for five years when she was younger, and that was enough to springboard her to Vaganova and from that, the Mariinsky,” Chris murmurs from behind. “You think she’ll be the new principal?”

Yuuri shook his head at the same time that Sara threw in her opinion. “She wouldn’t do that. Nepotism isn’t hers or Feltsman’s thing. Nikiforov is definitely here to replace the Director because his track record. If anything, I bet she’s just here because Madame wanted her to branch out and experience different things instead of staying with the Mariinsky forever.”

Applause rang from the door, and they all jerked around. “You are right.” Milla’s English is crisp and her accent distinct. “Lilia said that in this day and age, I should dance with different troupes because each one is different. The Mariinsky is famous, but I don’t know if that’s where I want to settle. I’m young, you know?”

Chris rolls to his feet, all sinuous seduction that Yuuri knows is from his cross-training doing pole dancing. “You _are_ young,” he says, and even though Yuuri isn’t looking he knows that the words are accompanied by a wink. “What brings you here, Miss Babicheva?”

“Call me Milla,” she says bluntly. “I hope to be here more than a year, and Miss Babicheva is too long and formal to be calling a fellow ballerina, no?” Chris laughs, and Yuuri feels himself smiling at her easy nature. The smile falls away though as she rounds on Yuuri, clasping her hand behind her back. “You’re Yuuri Katsuki, aren’t you?”

Yuuri’s heart sinks. “I am.” He knows where this is going, the dance and routine.

“Minako Okukawa’s protege. The one and only,” Milla murmurs. “Lilia told me about you, and I did my research. I look forward to dancing with you, Mr. Katsuki.”

“Please,” Yuuri hears himself say, “Call me Yuuri.” The informality of America has long inured him to the knowledge that the formality he was raised on has no place here, and it is only fitting as she had offered her own first name to use. “What on earth would the Madame say about me?”

Milla smiles, secrets curling at her lips, but lacking malice. “Nothing much! Just that you definitely are Madame Okukawa’s protege, and that she wishes that she had gotten you before her! But alas, she got me instead. Our mentors were friends, you know, so I was thinking that we should be too.” She sticks out her hand to shake, and Yuuri can feel Otabek and Sara’s concern aimed at him now.

He takes it anyway. Anyone that was able to get Lilia’s favour is definitely not the type of ballerina or danseur that would stoop to sabotaging others. While her English is very formal and lacking in tones that one would usually use when making friends, Yuuri trusts her, or at least Lilia’s judgement of her. “I could show you around the building right now if you want,” he offers.

She beams at this, shaking his hand vigorously. “Please! This place is a maze. I lagged behind Vitya and Yura and got lost, which is how I ended up here instead of Yakov’s office.” Her goodwill is infectious, and Yuuri can’t help but think that she and Phichit would get along like a house on fire.

Quick glances at the others lead to Sara volunteering to come along as well. She strikes up her own introduction with Milla, asking her about her career and what it was like to be under Lilia’s intense singular scrutiny. Yuuri ran his hand through his hair. “You don’t mind her?” Chris asks, Otabek a reassuring presence behind him. “She asked that question, after all.”

“She didn’t pry,” Yuuri explains, “And she means well. She relates to me, or wants to relate to me, so I’m not... I don’t mind.”

In Juilliard, he had hated people seeing his weaknesses, and held onto Phichit as his best friend for so long because Phichit had never pried and gave him his space. But after joining the company, Chris and Otabek had not left him alone as he had wanted. They spent many hours together, practicing and dancing, and eventually the two men became people that Yuuri could count as close friends as well. They knew of his struggle with interviewers and reporters and so many danseurs that had recognized his name and asked, “Aren’t you Minako Okukawa’s student?” and then saw him as that alone.

Chris and Otabek have not heard the struggle from his own lips, but they were perceptive, and had long noticed his discomfort at the words. It had taken a good couple of conversations which they cut in and dragged Yuuri off on a minor excuse before he recognized that they were saving him from that same old dance and jig that he hated.

Their expressions are encouraging as Milla turns her attention back to Yuuri and then moves lightning-quick to hook their arms together. “Let us go now, Yuuri! So that I won’t be lost in this horrifying maze again.” Sara laughs next to her, and Yuuri can feel himself relaxing in her presence, as fresh as it is.

“So who else came with you?” Sara asks as they navigate the halls, guiding Milla to the notice board and floor plan and various rooms. Shooting a sly smile at Yuuri, she adds, “I hear Victor Nikiforov is here?”

“He is!” Milla confirms. She turns to Yuuri too. “He wanted you to hold the door because Yakov told him that only someone that works here would know how to get in, and if we went through the front we might have been mobbed by Yura’s fans. We did not want that experience.”

“Yura?” Yuuri sends a _look_ back to Sara as he dodges around the existence that is Victor Nikiforov that he is afraid to acknowledge right now. “I didn’t recognize him.”

Milla nods as if she’d expected that. “You do not follow figure skating, then. Yura is Yuri Plisetsky. He won many medals in the Junior Division and became a Senior skater two years ago. He won gold at the Grand Prix Final, and is the bronze medallist for the World Championships. He’s here because he needs a break though.”

“He has the same name as Yuuri?” Sara says. “We might need a nickname for him then, or it’ll get confusing.”

Milla chortles. “A nickname! That might be a good idea. He will not like it, but since he has no seniority in ballet he will have to suck it up, as you Americans say. I can’t wait to see his face if you do nickname him.”

“Why does he need a break?”

“He was working too hard,” Milla answers. “Coach Celestino insisted that he take a break this season because he’s growing, and he kept falling on the ice because of his balance. His dedushka is old friends with Lilia and Yakov, and he knew them when he was younger, so he’s accompanying me and Vitya so we can make sure that he doesn’t break anything while he’s growing.” She gestures to one of the practice rooms that they’re passing by. “Also, Lilia says that keeping up his cross-training with ballet is a safer way of keeping his coordination while he grows than possibly cracking his head on the ice from a bad fall.”

Yuuri and Sara wince. “How old is he?” Sara asks curiously.

“Yura is seventeen! I am twenty-one, and Vitya is twenty-seven,” Milla says. “Speaking of Vitya-”

“Milla! I’ve been looking for you!”  she’s cut off by angry footsteps tromping down the stairs. Yuri Plisetsky’s face is red with irritation, “You traitor! You left me with Lilia and Yakov and that old man! They’re talking about contracts and shit and I have no idea where everything in this place is.” He halts his angry tirade at the sight of Sara and Yuuri, deflating a little. “Who’re they?”

“This is Sara Crispino,” Milla shrugs off Yuri’s bad mood easily, “And you know exactly who Yuuri Katsuki is!” Yuri reels back like he’s been burned, and Yuuri has no time to process that statement because another person descends the stairs, and Victor appears, smiling congenially as he puts a hand on Yuri’s shoulder.

“Yura, that was rude of you. You’re new here, so you need to display some respect, even if you’re casual with Milla.” Sara is quick to assure him that she was more amused than offended, which just increases Yuri’s visible ire.

Yuuri says nothing, just watches and struggles with something to say. _I think what you do is beautiful_ , or _I’ve watched your career for a long time_ , or _You’ve inspired me almost as much as Minako-sensei did._

In the end, he doesn’t have to say anything. Victor’s eyes land on him, and he brightens visibly, smile going heart-shaped. It’s cute. “You’re Yuuri Katsuki!”

Yuuri’s heart falls. _Minako’s protege, yes_ , he prepares to say.

“I’ve watched the videos of your performances!” Victor says instead, “I’m so glad to be working with you!”

And Yuuri’s heart _soars._

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully will have it complete like. soon. before midterms torture me. hope you enjoooyed


End file.
